


For Crying Out Loud (Breathe In and Breathe Out)

by hhellion (LackingStealth)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Identity Reveal, Multi, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Slow Burn, Swearing in French, silliness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-16 22:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5843149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LackingStealth/pseuds/hhellion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the summer between their last year of collège and their first year of lycée, and Marinette and Adrien can’t seem to stop running into each other, both inside and outside the suit.  Normally, that would be the opposite of a problem, but there’s one tiny little detail that’s throwing a wrench in the works.</p>
<p>Marinette and Adrien have worked out each other’s big, Miraculous secret.</p>
<p>And they’ve conveniently decided not to <em>tell</em> each other about it.</p>
<p>(The next two months are about to get <em>really</em> interesting.)</p>
<p>Rated T for shenanigans, second-hand embarrassment, and all-around silliness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Pick Me Up (I)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting fic on my birthday so you can only say nice things about it, those are the rules! Now, I’ve been meaning to write these two goobers for ages, and this was meant to be mostly light and fluffy. But I overthink EVERYTHING, so now there’s angst and honest-to-god plot. But that’s not for awhile yet, so for now it should just be some good, summertime fluff.
> 
> Incidentally, this is going to strive to be a series of single- and multi-part vignettes. I’m going to aim for weekly updates, at a minimum. Feel free to bug me (buh-dum-tss) on my [tumblr](http://mademoisellecoccinelle.tumblr.com/) if I’ve been radio silent for too long.
> 
> Title from “Time of Your Life” by Elizaveta.
> 
> (ALSO INCIDENTALLY, I started working on this before “The Gamer”, but now it’s even more applicable. Consider this my efforts to contribute to #LetAdrienEat2K16. FEED THAT BOY, MARINETTE.
> 
> ALSO ALSO, I’m sweeping the events of “Animan” under the rug, regarding Nino’s crush. Instead he and Marinette are good old-fashioned buds, and it’s great.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA dim sum and damsels.

Their last day of school happens to fall on a Wednesday, so the regular lunch bell finds Marinette standing on the steps of the Collège Françoise Dupont, crushed in Alya’s arms.

“Girl, I’m gonna miss you so much!”

Marinette returns her best friend’s embrace with just as much force, burying her face in Alya’s hair. “It’s only for the summer,” she mumbles, the platitude for herself as much as it is for Alya. “And you’re going to _Italy_! With gelato, and pizza, and Italian boys, and Italian girls!”

She can feel when Alya breaks down into giggles. “And Italian girls,” her friend agrees, pressing her chin into Marinette’s shoulder, followed by a smacking kiss to her cheek.

When Alya’s mom was given an all-expenses paid trip to Rome by the Hotel Plaza Anthénéé to study Italian cuisine for the summer, Mme. Césaire decided to turn the trip into a vacation for the whole family. Alya isn’t looking forward to wrangling her sisters for two months while her mother attends her classes, but she is downright _thrilled_ about the prospect of investigating La Volpina. Apparently, after she apologized to her Ladyblog readers about the trip, a few had mentioned the superheroine who was rumored to haunt the skylines of Rome. Alya went out and bought a brand new camera in her excitement. Rome isn’t gonna know what hit it.

Marinette snuggles deeper into her hug now, clamping down her jaw against the stinging in the back of her throat. “Call as much as you can, okay?”

“Everyday, and twice on Sundays,” Alya promises, and then she’s letting go, and stepping away. She’s got a flight and a fox to catch. With one final wave, Alya sprints down the steps the rest of the way and climbs into her mother’s waiting car.

Marinette stands there waving until they turn the corner and disappear from sight.

But she doesn’t even have a minute to wallow in her misery before an arm drapes over her shoulders and a very familiar voice says, “Dude, you have any plans for lunch?”

Marinette can’t help her snort, and turns to find Nino’s grinning face. His eyes are soft, though, understanding—he’s gonna miss her, too. Probably more than he cares to admit. _Definitely_ more than Alya cares to admit. Wrapping her own arm around his waist and squeezing tight, Marinette makes a show of turning the offer over in her head.

After a moment of exaggerated, thoughtful frowning, she breaks into a toothy grin. “Well, I guess I could make time for _you_ , Nino,” she teases. “What did you have in mind?”

“Actually,” and Adrien steps up to her other side, smirking deviously and holding a golden credit card in his hand like it’s a pass to the Angoulême International Comics Festival, “I was thinking lady’s choice.”

Her grin stretches slow and scheming across her face. “Anywhere?”

“Anywhere you want.”

 

●        ●  
●  
●        ●

 

She directs Adrien’s driver—who, after months of driving them around, _still_ insists she call him Le Gorille—to drop them off on a street corner in the 15th arrondissement, and then politely asks him to meet them back there in an hour.

“Marinette?” Nino asks, confused, as they’re standing at the corner of a park in the middle of a residential area, with no restaurant in sight.

“Don’t you trust me?” she asks wryly, quirking an eyebrow at the boys.

Adrien laughs and dips into a sweeping bow as he says, “Lead the way, Marinette.”

Rolling her eyes, she grabs his outstretched hand and tugs him across the street, Nino hot at their heels. Two blocks down and around a corner, and she makes a little happy noise.

“Yay, the line’s short!”

“A food truck?” Adrien asks, as they step into line. Nino just _beams_ and knocks his knuckles against Marinette’s shoulder for a fist bump.

The truck is big and blue and white, and whatever they’re cooking inside smells _amazing_. Marinette breathes it in and lets her eyes fall closed, knowing exactly what she wants even as the boys debate over the menu.

Her mom had stumbled upon the dim sum restaurant in the 17th arrondissement a year and a half ago, while on a delivery for the bakery, and it’s quickly become her favorite place to take Marinette when they have an afternoon to themselves. Hearing about the food truck was just the pièce de résistance.

She’s been meaning to share this place with Alya, but they haven’t gotten around to it, yet. But she’s glad for the boys behind her now, joking good-naturedly about Adrien’s preference for seafood and Nino’s downright loathing of mushrooms. She’ll feel lonely later, when she’s tucked away in her room for bed and forced to face the reality of an entire summer without her best friend, but right now, she doesn’t have the chance.

“Alright.” Adrien sets his hand on her shoulder and leans in, close enough that she can feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. Marinette blinks wide-eyed at him for a moment, before he startles and jerks back to a more respectable distance, where she’s not drowning in the green of his eyes.

“Um, so I know what _I_ want, and Nino knows what he wants, and I’m sure you think you know what you want, but you don’t!” Adrien even looks convinced about it, glaring down at her playfully.

“Oh I don’t?”

“Nope!” Nino pipes up. “You’re forgetting one major detail.”

“Tada!” Adrien whips out the credit card, Nino popping up behind his shoulders to do jazz hands.

Marinette is unimpressed. “I have a credit card, too, you know. And you don’t see _me_ dropping €100 on lunch.”

“Oh we won’t spend _nearly_ that much.” Adrien slings his arm around her shoulders with a conspiratorial grin. “Besides, Nathalie’s the one who monitors the credit card account, and we have an agreement. I keep her secrets, and she looks the other way when I spend my father’s money so long as it’s not unreasonable. And lunch for my friends is _not_ unreasonable.”

She’s still hesitant to agree, and makes a show of deepening her frown. She knows it’s not charity, knows it’s just Adrien being _Adrien_ , and he’s never known what to do with his money if he wasn’t spending it on his friends. And yet, Marinette still can’t turn off the part of her that cringes at the way he’s so casual about it.

But for all her hyperawareness of Adrien’s wealth, she knows his must be tenfold. Unlike Chloé, Adrien has never been proud of his family’s money.

“Please, Marinette,” Adrien says, soft and earnest, “let me spend my father’s money on you.”

“Okay.”

And then Nino’s pushing them up to the counter to give their order.

The boys _do_ go all out—each ordering four boxes of dim sum, along with their sides and a couple orders of chocolate bao to share—but, Marinette supposes, they have been ravenous lately. It hasn’t gone unnoticed by her parents, either, and Sabine and Tom have taken advantage of their bottomless stomachs by using them to test out new recipes for the boulangerie. Marinette compromises, and orders herself the chicken and the mushroom—Nino shudders dramatically—and the five-spice pork, to bring home for her mom. Adrien throws on another three orders of the beef dumplings at the end.

“For Le Gorille,” he explains as he pays.

“Okay, I have to ask, why do you call him that?” Marinette adjusts the strap of her purse as they move to the side to wait. “Why does he keep telling _me_ to call him that?”

Nino just about leaps out of his skin, he gets so excited. “It’s actually the _coolest thing ever_ ,” he gushes, bouncing on his toes. To Adrien, he says, “Do you wanna tell the story because _dude_ I wanna tell the story!”

Chuckling, Adrien spreads his arms wide. “Be my guest.”

“Awesome!” Then Nino swings around to direct the full force of his enthusiasm on Marinette. He grips at her shoulder. “Le Gorille is his _nom de guerre_.”

“ _What_?”

“He’s a professional wrestler!”

Adrien rolls his eyes. “He’s retired, but yeah. He started with the promotion in Montereau, and then he was in Berlin for a few years, but he’s from Béziers, so when the Béziers Wrestling Association was founded, he came home. He retired a few years ago, and now he works for my father.” He shrugs. “He asked me to call him Le Gorille, too. I’m sure my father knows his name, though.”

“Huh.”

“It is the _coolest_ thing,” Nino insists.

Adrien cracks a smile. “Yeah, it is pretty cool.”

Marinette turns this over in her head. It would explain a lot. And, she has to admit, it really is a fitting stage name. “So…” she says, “has Le Gorille ever, you know, shown you one of his moves?”

Adrien actually frowns at that; it must have never occurred to him. “I don’t know. I’ve never asked.”

Eyes bulging behind his glasses, Nino seems _much_ more excited about the idea. “ _Dude_ why have we never asked him?”

“I don’t know, probably because that’s not his _job_.”

But Nino is on a roll, bounding forward and gesturing wildly with his arms. “But think about it, man! Le Bulleur and L’Épéiste! We would be _famous_!”

Marinette can’t properly contain her giggles behind her hand, but Adrien lets out a groan. “No thanks, I’d rather not spend any more time in a mask than I already do.”

“And just how much time _do_ you spend in a mask, Adrien?” she asks, poking him in the shoulder.

He only shoots her a crooked grin.

They fall into idle chatter after that, talking about their plans for the summer and lycée beyond, gossiping about the tangled love lives of their friends, about how quiet Sabrina was today with Chloé out of school, starting her summer early with her mother’s family at Chamonix, and it’s nice. Marinette still wishes Alya could be here, completing their little band of friends, but she knows the boys are doing their best to keep her distracted and laughing and she’s not the least bit ashamed to admit that it’s working. She’s so grateful she has them in her life, so glad that she didn’t revert to a stuttering, blushing mess around Adrien after her uncle came to visit.

She was surprised how easy it was, to be his friend and still have a crush on him. She got to see the side of him that he never showed in public, the bashful fanboy who cracked up at his own puns and had enough nervous energy to light up the Eiffel Tower. And Marinette was just as enamored with that Adrien as she was with the generous, brilliant boy who sat in front of her in class and had his face plastered semi-reluctantly on billboards all across the city.

Someday she’ll work up the nerve to tell him how she feels, but she wouldn’t trade their friendship now for anything.

Eventually, their order is called, and they load up their arms with their haul and make their way back to the park. Nino points out a bench with enough shade to protect them from the worst of the summer sun, and they claim it as their own.

Marinette waits with her phone at the ready to capture the boys’ reactions after they take their first bites, and she’s not disappointed.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Nino moans, shoving the rest of the pork dumpling in his mouth. Adrien just nods, going a little teary-eyed over his salmon dumpling because, “This might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“Right? But you haven’t _really_ had dim sum until you’ve had my uncle’s.” Marinette sends the short video to her mom with the caption, _first time at Mum!!!!_ , and digs into her box of mushroom dumplings.

“Shifu Cheng _is_ the best chef in the world,” Adrien says around a mouthful of food.

Marinette beams at him.

They fall quiet as they eat, watching the lunchtime crowds pass through the park. People chatting casually on their lunch breaks, parents and children strolling along the path, even a dog walker making laps around the park, who’s managed to wrangle seven dogs into line.

A shudder _rolls_ down Adrien’s spine.

Marinette’s gazes slides over to him, only to find Nino already giving him the side-eye on his other side. “Everything okay there, dude?” Nino asks, slowly.

“Just, um, not a fan of dogs,” Adrien shrugs, trying to play it cool, but he’s a bit too sheepish to pull it off completely.

Nino shakes his head. “Yeah, I still don’t get what _that_ is all about. Dogs are awesome! They love you and they aren’t shy about it.”

“I’m just more of a cat person, I guess.”

“What about you, Marinette?” Nino leans forward, taking a sip from his can of soda.

“Neither. I like hamsters better.”

“But if you had to pick _one_ ,” Nino insists. Adrien even quirks his head, curious.

One day, she’ll have to sit down with herself and think long and hard about why the answer is waiting so readily on her tongue. Today is not that day.

“Then cats, probably.”

“Ha!” Adrien holds up his hand for a fist bump even as Nino bemoans her betrayal.

“The two of you are _crazy_. At least Alya gets me!”

Marinette hums in agreement. “But she’s biased. She’d pick _anything_ over cats.”

“What does Alya have against _cats_?” Adrien asks, affronted, fiddling with the lid of his dim sum box. Then, under his breath, he grumbles, “She seems to like Chat Noir just fine.”

“Chat Noir is actually a person, and he’s, you know, a superhero.” Marinette nudges him with your elbow. “In her words, ‘he’s pretty slick.’”

“Plus Chat Noir doesn’t lurk around in the shadows waiting to pounce on unsuspecting passersby, scare them half to death, tear their clothes, bite their legs, and vomit on their shoes.”

“Wait, _what_?”

Nino nods solemnly, a faraway look in his eyes. “Le Chat Misérable. He was probably the angriest, ugliest cat in the entire world.”

“Now this is a story I’ve got to hear.”

It’s more prompting than Nino needs, and Adrien knows it. He sends a wink to Marinette that she feels down to her toes, shifting in her seat to better listen.

“Alright,” Nino begins, his voice heavy with gravitas, “so once there was a cat, a very ugly cat. He only had three paws, and nobody knew what color his fur was, because it was so caked in dirt and grime that he’d turned grey. He had a nasty scar over one eye that got infected and sealed it shut, and all that was left of his tail was a sad little stump. He even had a bite taken out of one ear! He was so ugly that not a single shelter would take him, and it made him angry. He had obviously been through battle, but no one wanted to take him in!”

“ _No_ ,” Adrien murmurs, almost to himself. Marinette looks at him, and has to do a double take at how _distraught_ he is, his brow pinched together and the corners of his mouth twisted in a grimace. She rests her hand on his knee and squeezes. He covers her hand with his own warm palm and threads their fingers together, casting her a quick, embarrassed smile.

Nino goes right on telling his story, seemingly oblivious to their silent exchange. In his defense, he _does_ get wrapped up in it, gesturing wide with his eyes and his hands as he tells the tale. “He was,” Nino says grandly, “without a doubt, the most miserable cat there ever was, and that was what the people called him, Le Chat Misérable.

“And so Le Chat Misérable spent his days lurking in dark corners, feasting on rats and garbage, and he vowed to make the people who had treated him so poorly pay for their transgressions! He would make them suffer, as he suffered. Now,” Nino says, pulling his hands in and leaning close, “this is where our lovely heroine comes in! As cute as a button and wearing the first ever skirt designed and made by her best friend, young Alya was walking home from école primaire, minding her own business, when, out of nowhere—”

“ _MREOW_!”

Adrien _jumps_ , yelping and holding all his tension in his shoulders as he swings around to glare at Marinette.

But she can’t help the snort she lets out before she and Nino bust out laughing, nearly knocking their empty dim sum boxes to the ground. But when Adrien grumbles and tries to pull his hand away, she only tightens her grip and tugs it over to her lap. She runs her thumbs over his knuckles in apology, offering him a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she sighs through her giggles. “It’s been so long since we’ve had anyone to tell that story.”

“Yeah,” Nino agrees, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “The last one was probably Alix, and _she_ didn’t take it nearly as well as you did.”

“She punched Nino in the face,” Marinette says drily.

Nino rubs at his jaw with a grimace. “I was the cat.”

Adrien scowls at both of them, scowls at the ground, and finally huffs, making a show of rolling his eyes, before relaxing back against the bench. “Alright, so the cat springs out of nowhere. What happens next?”

Nino’s eyes gleam. “ _Well_ …”

What follows might be his best reenactment yet. Nino leaps to his feat, recounting how the old alley cat latched onto Alya and refused to let go. He drags Marinette to her feet to stand in as Alya, dramatically fighting away Nino’s slashing paws and wailing when his claws “rip” through her skirt. The scene ends with Marinette valiantly fending off her attacker, at which point Nino gets bored of bothering her and mimes vomiting on her shoes, before lumbering away into the shadows once more.

Marinette stares at her shoes and whines out an “ _ewwwwwww_ ” with about eight syllables, and Nino pops out from behind the bench to announce, “And scene!”

They take a bow, letting Adrien clap and make appropriate crowd cheering noises.

“I don’t know why you don’t make more movies,” Adrien says as they sit down, breathless from their laughter and their charades. “That was kind of awesome.”

Nino beams, bright and sunny. “I would, but sadly, music is my true passion.” He mimes wiping away a tear, only to earn a shove from Adrien for his troubles.

“So that’s why Alya hates cats.”

Nino and Marinette nod. “She still has a scar, right here.” Marinette draws a line down her hip a hand-span, where Alya has a thin, white scar.

“Wait, really?” Nino leans forward, pushing into Adrien’s space. “I never knew that.”

Marinette fixes him with a pointed look. “She’s not exactly proud of it, you know. She’s mostly upset that my skirt got ruined,” she explains to Adrien.

“I’m sure you made her four more to replace it,” he teases, pushing her knee when she flushes and ducks her head down, all the confirmation he needs.

It’s almost time to meet up with Le Gorille, so they pack up their empty boxes and cans, saving the extra dumplings for Sabine and the leftover chocolate bao, which Adrien tucks protectively against his chest. He’ll have to smuggle it past Nathalie, because what she doesn’t know can’t get back to his father, but he’s pretty much resigned himself to sneaking snacks and sweets whenever he gets the chance.

A model’s diet is no walk in the park, after all.

“So whatever happened to that cat?” Adrien asks when they get to the corner, one hand tapping idly against the top of his bag.

Nino frowns, looking to Marinette for confirmation. “Didn’t M. Pascal end up taking him in?”

She thinks about it. “Well, Alya’s mom complained to the school about it, because it was only about a block away, but nobody actually _wanted_ to see the cat put down. I remember Rose crying about it. So yeah, it must have been M. Pascal, because Mlle. Gérard was so worried.”

Nino snickers. “I forgot about that!”

“Mlle. Gérard was the art teacher and a total bleeding heart,” Marinette explained, “and M. Pascal, the Vice Principal, was absolutely in love with her.”

Adrien ducks his chin and scuffs his shoe, making a grimace. “You guys have all known each other so long. You have so many stories, so many memories.” Then, quietly, more to himself than anything, “I missed out on so much.”

“Hey, man,” Nino takes him by the shoulder, shakes him a little, “don’t worry about it. You’re here now, you get to be part of all our new stories!”

“And don’t worry, Nino knows how to tell a good story.” Marinette knocks her hand against his elbow, grinning cheekily. “He’ll make sure you have all the good parts.”

Adrien leans into Nino’s embrace, smiling at them small and sunny. He opens his mouth to thank them, but before he gets a chance, a shrill whistle pierces the air.

They turn back to the park, and the dog walker has fallen to the ground, her dogs ripped from her grasp as they all flock to a figure standing on a park bench, a silver charm bracelet glinting off her wrist as she uses two fingers to whistle. “I am the Dog Whisperer!” she cries, stamping her foot. She’s barely old enough to attend college. “And all your dogs are mine!”

“ _C’mon_ ,” Marinette mutters under her breath. It had been such a quiet week.

A man calls out for her, pleads with her to come form from the bench—her father, probably—but the akuma only screams louder and levels a finger at him and cries, “HEEL!”

In a swirl of black smoke, a collie now stands where he man had been.

The park erupts in chaos.

“Get out of here!” Before she realizes what’s happening, Adrien is pushing Nino across the street and has latched onto Marinette’s elbow to drag her along at a full-on sprint.

She can already feel Tikki buzzing in her purse.

_I have to lose them_.

Before they reach the next corner, Marinette deliberately stumbles, lets Adrien’s hand slip from her elbow. They’re racing to cross the street before the light changes, and Marinette shortens her strides to fall behind. The second the boys’ feet hit the crosswalk, she pivots and dashes back towards the park.

The akuma has reached the other end of the park, her pack now numbering in the dozens and trailing behind her with a chorus of angry barking.

“Hey Dog Whisperer!” she shouts before the girl can get too far. “Somebody should put you on a leash!”

The akuma gives an outraged shriek and whirls around, but Marinette has already ducked behind a bush. She spots a boy and a girl hiding between the roots of a tree, shaking and staring at her with huge, frightened eyes.

“When I run,” she whispers, gesturing which direction with a flick of her head, “you get out of here as fast as you can, okay?”

They give her twin nods, and she holds up a hand with three fingers, ticking down slow enough for them to get ready to move. When Marinette closes her pointer finger into her fist, she leaps to her feet.

“What do you call a dog with no legs!” she calls, cupping her mouth with her hands so the sound carries.

The second the Dog Whisperer turns, Marinette is off and running to the far end of the park. “It doesn’t matter!” she throws over her shoulder. “He won’t come to you anyway!”

“That is _so_ _mean_!” the akuma wails, and with another shrill whistle, she sends her pack charging forward.

“Marinette!” Tikki hisses, popping her head out of Marinette’s purse.

“I know, I know.” She flies through the gate and out onto the sidewalk, turning down the street in hopes of loosing the dogs in the park.

Then a shepherd flies over the fence. It lands on the pavement barely five meters away and turns to her with a growl.

_Oh merde_.

The next thing she knows, she’s airborne, swept up into a pair of strong, wiry arms.

Marinette bands her arms around Chat’s neck, because no matter how many times he seems to find her before she can transform, she still hates bounding over rooftops without the security of her yoyo in her hand. For a minute, she gives in to the brief surge of panic and presses her face into the crook of his neck.

He’s just so _close_ , closer than he ever allows himself to get to Ladybug, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck, close enough for her to _smell_ him, and—

he smells like salmon and lime and soy sauce. He smells like dim sum.

They drop down into an alley, far enough out of the way that Marinette shouldn’t be in any danger. Chat sets her on her feet, but doesn’t let go right away. He slides his hands up to her shoulders to make sure she’s steady, fixing her with a scrutinizing look.

His eyes are so, very green.

_It’s just a coincidence. It has to be a coincidence._

“Don’t think I didn’t see you running _towards_ the danger back there, ma princesse.” His frown veers dangerously into moue territory, his bottom lip jutting out as he puffs his cheeks. “Are you going to be getting into this much trouble the whole summer? I know your Ladyblogger friend has gone off to terrorize Italy. Do I need to worry about you, too?”

But during his little speech, his eyes softened, his mask contorting as his brows pinched together. His grip on her shoulders eased into a caress, and he ran his hands down her arms to cradle her elbows.

There’s genuine empathy there, real concern. He knows precisely how hard this summer is going to be for her.

She blinks up at him, slack-jawed, and after a beat he leaps back, stumbling over his words to correct himself. “I mean, do I need to watch you— _no_ , uh, do I need to keep an eye on you—or, that is, you won’t be trying on her shoes—trying to _fill_ her shoes—I mean—”

Marinette presses her hand to his mouth to end his nervous babbling—he _babbles_ when he’s nervous!—and it’s Chat Noir’s turn to blink owlishly down at her. “Thank you, Chaton,” she says, resisting the urge to bite her lip.

Instead, impulsively, she grips his shoulder, pops up on her toes, and kisses him on the cheek, right below the edge of his mask.

It barely lasts half a second, just the press of her lips against his skin. Even so, it’s like a bolt of lightning straight to her heart. When she steps back he’s stunned silent, watching her with wide eyes.

She feels the smile, coy and clever, coming on before she can stop it.

_Coincidence be damned_.

“But you don’t have to worry about me,” she reassures him. He’s still staring at her; she doesn’t think he’s even blinked once. “I won’t be alone. Besides, with my luck, trouble tends to find _me_ first.”

That gets a chuckle out of her partner, at least. He shakes his head, coming back to himself, and casts his eyes out into the street behind her. Then he pulls out his staff.

“Can you at least _try_ to keep safe?” he huffs as he walks to the end of the alley, but there’s a bounce in his step. He swings his staff up onto his shoulders and hooks his wrists over, oh-so-casual, before tipping back over one shoulder to throw her his Cheshire grin. The sunlight hits his hair and casts a golden halo around his head. He looks devilish, and enticing, and he knows _exactly_ the image he’s striking.

After all, he’s had enough practice.

“Get out of here, Chat Noir!” Marinette laughs.

“Take care, ma princesse! Until we meet again!” And with a salute, he bounds off, down the street and back into the fray.

Marinette’s hands are shaking as she pops open her purse. Tikki zooms out, ready for action, when she notices the expression—or lack thereof—on Marinette’s face.

“Marinette? Are you okay?” she asks with concern, swooping in front of her charge’s nose.

“I—I—I’m not sure.” Marinette gives a little, hysterical giggle.

She just kissed _Adrien_.

And Adrien is Chat.

“You know what? _No_ , I am not okay,” she says decisively, and even admitting it out loud makes her feel a little bit better. She nods at Tikki, determined. “But I can be not okay later. Right now we’ve got an akuma to beat and a city to save. Transformez moi!”

If Ladybug hesitates a beat too long before retorting to Chat’s punchlines and flirtations that afternoon, well, he’s just none the wiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Oops, I Marichat-ed.)
> 
> Things:
> 
> If Adrien is the kind of dork who dreams about going to a Comic Con (and I argue that he is), then he’d probably dream about the Angoulême International Comics Festival. Marinette, being the dork that SHE is, already knows this.
> 
> The food truck is [real](http://www.timeout.com/paris/en/restaurants/mum-dim-sum)!
> 
> And, okay, so I went through a lot of internal angst over this dang food truck, but ultimately decided to forge ahead in the name of fic and fluff. What it boils down to is this: I am as Midwestern born-and-bred white bread as they come, so if at any point you see something glaringly offensive in how I’ve represented cultures that are not my own, please don’t hesitate to call me out on it. I am more than welcome to talk about it and make whatever changes we deem necessary.
> 
> Aaaaand with that PSA out of the way, on with the show!


	2. You Pick Me Up (II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA les misérables and macarons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure who’s coming into this with unrealistic expectations. Is it you, my lovely readers, who are definitely going to be expecting long chapters based on these first two, or me, who thought I could write short chapters? (The joke’s on all of us, the next one is super short.)
> 
> But thank you for all your patience and kudos and comments! I am so very excited to be sharing this story with you.
> 
> Rating is T for shenanigans, second-hand embarrassment, silliness, and also now for swearing in French, and slow burn.
> 
> For the curious, translations to the (probably gratuitous) French can be found [here](http://mademoisellecoccinelle.tumblr.com/post/139194822848/on-le-fran%C3%A7ais)!
> 
> Okay so I got a lot of complements on my dialogue last chapter (thank you thank you!!), let me know what you think here? ~~I kind of went overboard with the French expressions in the dialogue this time, so if it works I’ll go back and fix the first chapter to match, and if it doesn’t I’ll clean up this one.~~ [Edit: Yeah I went back and took out basically everything actually in the dialogue (all the thanks's and yeah's and hi's that were all over the place) so hopefully it's flowing better.] Also feel free to correct me if my French is wrong! I tried to be thorough in my research, but I also put a lot of trust in the internet.

Chat Noir spends an inordinate amount of time that first afternoon of the summer thinking about a pair of lips that don’t belong to his ladylove.

Or, he _thought_ they didn’t belong to his ladylove.  But, in fact, they do.  Marinette’s lips, that is.  Belong to Ladybug.

_Because Marinette is Ladybug_.

Tumbling through his window with absolutely _none_ of his catlike reflexes, Chat doesn’t even bother releasing his transformation before shuffling over to his bed and flopping down face-first onto the mattress.  He kind of wants to crawl under the duvet and never come out again.

How did his world come to this?

It was, actually, a complete accident, though no one would ever believe it.  _Ladybug_ probably won’t even believe it.

_Oh merde, Ladybug is never going to believe it._

 

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This is how Adrien’s world was turned on its axis:

They were fighting like normal, or—well, _almost_ normal.  Chat Noir could feel Ladybug’s eyes on him more than usual, her gaze searching and heavy.  It didn’t throw him off, but it made his skin prickle, gave him a heightened awareness of her presence.  It made it hard not to look at her.

But as much as they were in sync and in step like always, the akuma still gave them a run for their money.  She sent waves of dogs and people-turned-dogs at them, forcing them off the ground to leap from awnings to balconies to rooftops.  At one point she started pulling leashes from her pockets, infinitely long like Ladybug’s yoyo string, and whipped them out to wrap around lamp posts and street signs in a web that prevented them from getting a clear shot.

Chat didn’t have to look at Ladybug to know they needed to jump back into the fray—dreading as he was the prospect of willingly surrounding himself with so many _dogs_.  But he was startled from his thoughts when her voice cut over the dissonant barking, clear as a whistle.

“Chat Noir!”

They had ended up on the same side of the street, just a building apart.  She was standing on the edge of the roof, her yoyo at the ready, the sunlight catching off her suit and her hair and making her shimmer, her hand extended out to him.

He didn’t hesitate before vaulting to her side.

“You have a plan, Buginette?”

She nods.  “I think the akuma is in her bracelet.”

He had figured as much.  “One of us will need to get close.”

“And one of us is going to have to keep her pack distracted.”  She frowned deeply, eyeing the frenzy on the street below.  Beneath the net of leashes, dogs practically _covered_ the street, leaping on cars and snapping at each other.  Chat was sure the Dog Whisperer’s pack was a few hundred in number, by now.

He swallowed heavily, bracing himself.  “My Lady, I can—”

“I’ll play cat and mouse with her mutts if you can figure out a way to grab the bracelet.”  When he didn’t respond, Ladybug twisted around to look at him.  He was sure he was a sight, staring at her slack-jawed, the faintest hint of a blush staining his cheeks.  They’ve always been on the same wavelength, ever since the beginning, but he never believed that it went this deep, that she could recognize his fears without him having to say anything.

But his Lady only smiled, her free hand lifting to cup his cheek.  “Well I can’t just throw you to the wolves, now can I, mon minou?”

Chat’s heart was skipping for a wholly different reason now.  “Of course not.”  He must have been grinning like a love-struck idiot.

And Ladybug went _pink_ , biting her lip with a smile as she ducked her head, and Chat couldn’t _breathe_.

_Does she actually_ — _?_

But then his partner was looking up with determination in her eyes, and she waited for his nod before wrapping her arm securely around his waist.  Chat curled one arm around her waist and one around her neck, inadvertently bringing their faces close together.  She blinked at him, momentarily startled, and he froze.

“My lady?”

She was already shaking her head, her eyes bright with her laughter, and she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek, right below his mask—in the exact same place Marinette had kissed him earlier, on his other cheek, before hurling them both off the edge of the roof and back into the fight.

That should have been the first clue.

But the battle was relatively routine, after that.  Ladybug made use of her Lucky Charm—this time, a rubber duck with a very effective squeak—to distract the dogs.  A well-placed Cataclysm burst open a standpipe in the street that drenched the Dog Whisperer and sidetracked her enough for Chat to swipe her bracelet.  He made a toss, Ladybug a catch, and that was the end of that.

Chat ended up balanced on the arm of a lamp post, having vaulted up to stay clear of the slobber and the teeth, but he lost his grip on his baton as he was shrinking it down.  It lay abandoned in a puddle as a poodle gnawed happily on the metal.  Ladybug’s cleanse rang out from up the street, leaving Chat staring forlornly down at the offending pooch as a pulse of magic swept it away to its rightful owner.  His baton fell to the sidewalk with a clatter, glistening with slobber.

Chat _really_ hates dogs.

He rolled off the lamp post and flipped to land on his feet, and he was busy prying his baton off the ground with the tips of his claws when Ladybug jogged to his side.

“Oh dear.”  She pressed a hand to her mouth to hide her smile, but couldn’t do much about the silent giggles shaking her frame.

He shot her a look that was one part grimace, one part pout, and made an attempt at shaking the drool off his baton.  But when all he managed was to fling it onto his boots instead, he let out a low noise of disgust.

Ladybug couldn’t hide her snickers anymore.  “Oh, mon pauvre Chat Misérable.  Here, give it to me.”

Chat really couldn’t stop her from taking his baton and wiping it off against her hip.

He was too busy internally screaming.

Mostly just one name, over and over and over, in a voice that sounded oddly like Plagg’s.

_Marinette._

She was holding his de-slimed baton out, smirking with her hips cocked.

He thought about her sitting behind him in class, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder on those mornings when he had to drag himself out of bed.  How she always has to steel herself a little to hug him, her face screwing up like she’s about to march into battle, how since their almost-partnership for the videogame tournament, she and her parents have made it their mission to keep him well-fed.  How she’s always the first to jump to Chat Noir’s defense, when the nay-sayers make the mistake of bringing him up in her presence.  How brightly her blue eyes shine when she looks at him.

How bright her eyes were now.

Chat Noir reached out mechanically, taking his baton and holding up his other hand for the customary fist bump and _bien joué_.

Ladybug—Marinette—smiled, wide and sweet, and with the familiar beep of her earrings, bid him _à la prochaine_.  Then she was swinging up onto the rooftops and dashing out of sight.

_Focus, Adrien._

Chat Noir shook his head and clipped his baton at his back.  _Right.  Focus_.  He still needed to find Nino after he accidentally-on-purpose lost him at a métro entrance, and then he needed to see if he could hunt down where he’d hidden their leftovers from lunch.  And then he’d let Le Gorille take him home and let Nathalie give him his new schedule for the rest of the week, and let his father say goodbye before he left for Amsterdam.

Then he was going to find some cheese for Plagg, and he was going to race over rooftops until his head quieted and his heart didn’t feel like it was about to leap from his chest.

 

●        ●  
●  
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His transformation releases now with that familiar flash of green light, Plagg finally giving up on Adrien calling for the release himself.

Adrien crushes his face into a pillow, and lets out a long, shuddering groan.  He rolls onto his back, spread-eagle across the mattress, picks up another pillow, smashes it down onto his head, and sobs a little.

Plagg had let him run until his legs burned, until the setting sun was casting long shadows over the chimneys and parapets and the sky was washed in purples and reds and oranges.  Adrien’s mind is a lot quieter, but now it’s his _stomach_ that’s in knots.

There’s a little _thump_ as Plagg lands on top of Adrien’s shame sandwich.  His kwami rolls until he can nudge one of Adrien’s hands, and gently attempts to loosen the grip he’s digging into the memory foam.

“I honestly don’t understand what the big deal is,” Plagg says, mostly exasperated, but also more than a little consoling.  “You _like_ the girl, don’t you?”

“You _know_ I like Ladybug,” Adrien mumbles into his pillow.

“No, not Ladybug, the _girl_!  The one who always smells like a macaron explosion.”

“ _Marinette_ ,” Adrien whimpers.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it?  He loves Ladybug, but that’s a constant, steady thing, pumping through him with every beat of his heart, filling him up with every breath he takes.  He can’t escape it.  He doesn’t want to.

But Marinette is, is—

_Wonderful_.

And she’s Ladybug, which means that every magical, miraculous quirk and quality that he’d fallen in love with—he’d really been falling for all those things in Marinette.

But he already _knows_ Marinette, doesn’t he?  He knows she is brave, and selfless, and generous, and so incredibly kind.

If she is Ladybug, and he hadn’t been able to _see it_ , then how well can he possibly know her?

“How can I face her, Plagg?”

“What are you talking about?”  Plagg kneads at Adrien’s hands until he moves the pillow away, and the the kwami is hovering above him, little arms crossed with a frown.

“How can I look at her, how can I be her partner, if I can’t even—if I can’t—”

He can’t finish his sentence, his breaths all sort of melding together until he’s just inhaling, going dizzy with it.

“Okay, okay, kid, take a breath,” Plagg says.  He drops to the center of Adrien’s chest and curls up there, purring in a rhythm until Adrien can exhale, and then he stays there, lets Adrien curl his hands around the kwami until his heart is steady.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”  Running a hand down his face, Adrien lets out a puff of air.

The first time he’d had a panic attack with Plagg, the kwami had to bite Adrien’s hand to pull him out of the hole he’d spiraled into.  Adrien was wiping the tears from his face, demanding that Plagg go find someone else to wear the ring, when the kwami had planted himself on Adrien’s head and said, “You weren’t chosen because you’re perfect, petit.  You were chosen because you’re _human_ , so don’t you ever think that you have to be perfect for me.”

It was the first time since his mother disappeared that someone had expected anything less than perfection from him.  It was the first time he felt that, maybe, bad luck wasn’t the curse people made it out to be.

“This is just my luck though,” Adrien laughs weakly, throwing his arms up over his head until his palms can push flat against the headrest.  “I finally figure out who Ladybug is, and she’s one of my best friends.”

“Again, I fail to see how this is a bad thing.”  Plagg takes off cartwheeling through the air, darting over to the tin of cheese Adrien keeps in one of his desk drawers.

“She—she knows how I feel about her.  How _Chat_ feels about Ladybug.  And she asked for our identities to be kept a secret.  She doesn’t want me to _know_.”

Plagg returns with a wedge of cheese the size of his head, munching happily.  “Did you go behind her back to figure it out?”

“Well, _no_ , but—”

“Did you see her transform?”

“You know that wasn’t—”

“Then I don’t see how it’s your fault that you put the pieces together!  It’s not like you meant to recognize her, anyway.”  And then, under his breath, Plagg adds, “I can’t believe it took you this long to see it.”

“That’s not fair and you know it.”  Adrien sits up to fix his kwami with a glare.  “It’s a magical transformation!  I wouldn’t recognize _myself_ as Chat Noir if I didn’t know it was, well, me.”

“That’s not even what I was—do you know how many times you’ve basically transformed _right next to each other?_ ”  Plagg actually _drops his cheese_ to plant his arms akimbo, matching Adrien’s glare with the same intensity.  “And that’s not even including those times that you were trapped in a building by an akuma!  I mean, there was Horrificator, Kung Food—”

“Okay, okay.”

“—and you’re always calling your friends by name—”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“—you use your staff like a damn _fencing sabre_ —”

“Alright, I get it!”

“—and you’ve been around each other enough with only one of you transformed that you should have heard the call by now.”

“What?”

Kwami can’t blush, but Plagg certainly goes a little bashful, swooping down to grab his cheese so he could hide his face.

“Plagg.”  Adrien feels his smile coming on before he can stop it.  It’s not every day that Plagg, master of sarcasm and all things cheese, gets embarrassed.  Adrien should take advantage of the opportunity to tease his kwami, because god knows Plagg wouldn’t even hesitate were their roles reversed.  But it’s also not every day that Plagg is willing to talk about himself, about the history of the ring or the other Chat Noirs that came before Adrien.

And this isn’t just about Chat Noir.  This is about Ladybug, too.

When he finishes his cheese, Plagg sighs, and barrel rolls over to sit on the window sill.  Adrien follows at a more sedate pace, slumping against the glass and sliding to the floor.

“Ladybug’s kwami and I are… connected.”  Plagg touched the glass, his ears drooping.  Adrien’s never heard him sound so fond of anything that wasn’t Camembert.  “There’s not a word for it.  You could call us ‘soulmates’, but… it’s more than that.  She’s my other half, my—my Ladybug.  She is, therefore I am.”

He tips back off the window sill, floating lazily in the air as his tail flicks idly back and forth.  “I always know where she is, I can feel it.  And you can feel it, too, but usually it’s masked by the power of the Miraculous when you’re both in your suits.  But if only one of you is transformed, then…”

Adrien thinks about that first time he’d introduced himself to Marinette, the day they fought the Evillustrator.  He’d felt an odd sort of tingling under his skin, like a bolt of lightning had hit him and the charge scattered across his skin, leaving him primed and ready to spark.  He _knew_ he was acting ridiculous, calling her “ma princesse” and flexing his arms.  But he couldn’t help how clammy his hands were inside his gloves, how desperately he wanted to impress the girl who sat behind him in class.

He thinks about running into her at the métro, after Alya had been turned back into Lady Wifi by the Puppeteer.  He felt the jolt, when his hand landed on her shoulder, but she was the one who jumped.  That little pinch between her brows had distracted him, the same pinch she gets whenever she’s hashing out the final details of a design, but she was going on about Alya and dolls and her house, and there was something about the way her hair fell over her eyes that made her look—different.  _Familiar_ , in a way Marinette-from-collège wasn’t.  He needed to escape the pull of her, so he cut her off and asked for her address, even though he’d already been there twice before.

He thinks about his battle with Antibug, how a split second’s hesitation got him tied to his own staff and dangled thirty meters over the street, how it was Ladybug’s voice that distracted the akuma, how it was her voice that murmured, “Close your eyes, mon chaton, I’m still recharging,” while she was untying him.  She helped him climb blindly over the railing and caught him when his tail snagged on his boot and he went tumbling.  She was steady and solid, bracing against the impact, her giggle like music in his ears.  “I thought cats were supposed to land on their feet,” she said, and he was so flustered that he blurted out something stupid about falling for her all over again.

He thinks about this afternoon, when his heart practically _sang_ when he’d had her in his arms, how her smile was downright coquettish, how it shot liquid heat straight down his spine.

“Wait a minute, that’s all been you?”

“Hate to burst your bubble,” Plagg rolls his eyes, “but you can’t blame me for how much of a fool you make of yourself.  It’s mostly you.”

“Oh.”  He’s not sure if he should feel this relieved.  Until today, he’d wanted the box of Marinette-induced feelings to stay firmly locked and tucked away.  Now, it was all rushing to the surface.

But at least it was all real.

“The call is, uh…” Plagg rights himself, squints at Adrien.  “It’s when you feel like…”

And he starts to spin in place, faster and faster and faster until he’s crackling with green energy.  And then, with a _crack_ that shakes the windows, Plagg rockets into the air.  He zips through the room like a pinball, ricocheting off the walls and ceiling and windows and bookshelves—thankfully without knocking anything down—only to crash in Adrien’s waiting hands.

_Oh_.

That’s _exactly_ what it feels like.

Adrien says as much, and Plagg nods.  “It’s how Ladybug and Chat Noir find each other, usually.  It makes it a lot easier when they don’t know each other in their civilian lives.  You hear the call, and you follow.”

Adrien rocks to his feet and makes his way over to drop onto his couch.  He sets Plagg on the armrest, and the kwami’s tail curls absently in the air.  “But Marinette’s been there the whole time.”  _I didn’t know I was supposed to feel any different around her_ , is what he doesn’t say.

Plagg seems to understand him anyway.  “I _know_ ,” he grouses, “and it’s been _killing me_.  I haven’t seen Tikki in decades, and she’s less than five feet from me every day and I can’t do a thing about it!  So you should really talk to Marinette.”  And then he’s off to grab another piece of cheese.

“So you can hook up with your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Plagg calls from inside the tin.

“So you can hook up with your soulmate, then.”

“Yes!”  This time, Plagg returns with a much more moderately-sized chunk of cheese, but it’s Camembert, which is worse.  “In the name of true love.”  He shoves the whole thing into his mouth, and says, “And also because, you know, tu _l’aimes_.”  And Plagg swoons right off the armrest.

Adrien resents the dramatics, but, well.  He can’t exactly argue with the sentiment.

“So what do you want me to do?”  He slumps against the armrest, propping his chin up on his arms and watching as Plagg bobs through the air, happily munching on his cheese.  “I can’t just go up to her and say, ‘Hey, Milady, I know you wanted to keep your identity a secret, but guess what? I accidentally found out who you are!’  Plagg, she’d never _speak_ to me again.  She’d shut me out, and then she’d be left to fight the akuma _alone_ , and how am I supposed to protect her when—”

“ _Woah_ there, Adrien!  That’s just the bad luck talking.”  Plagg drops back down onto the arm rest, reaching out and patting Adrien on the arm.  “You Chat Noirs have always been a fatalistic bunch.  Obviously you can’t just tell her like that.  You’ve got to ease her into it.”

“That’s harder than it sounds,” Adrien grumbles.

“Don’t underestimate yourself!  This is nothing you haven’t done before.”

“I think I would know if I had to confess how I accidentally found out the secret identity of one of my _best friends_.”  And that’s a lot to think about—too _much_ to think about.  In the few short months since her uncle came to visit, Marinette has managed to worm her way into his heart, right into the spot that had formerly been reserved for Ladybug alone.  But more than that, she’d snuck into that part of his heart he’d thought only Nino could fill.  With sweet smiles and almost unconscious compassion, she became one of the few people Adrien knows he can count on, unconditionally.  He doesn’t have enough of those in his life to be able to afford to lose her.  He doesn’t _want_ to lose her.

Adrien squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face in his arms so he doesn’t have to face the world or Plagg’s bright, insistent eyes.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, kid.  You’re not giving yourself enough credit.  What do you do when you negotiate with Nathalie?”

“But that’s not the same!  It’s not—I’m not trying to get anything out of Marinette.”

“Maybe not, but you are trying to convince her of something.”

“And what’s that?”  Adrien peeks up from his arms, and his kwami looking at him with uncharacteristically soft expression.

“I think you already know the answer.”

And he does, doesn’t he?

He needs to convince her that knowing her identity isn’t going to destroy their partnership, that it doesn’t change the way he feels about her.  He needs to prove that her knowing _his_ identity isn’t going to change anything either.  That this wasn’t the way he wanted to find out, but he doesn’t regret it.  Not one bit.

He thinks about the way she’d kissed him today, both times a firm press of her lips, one on the tail end of her laughter, the other followed by the kind of smile that was usually accompanied by a spotted mask.  There was something about the way she looked at him that made him feel invincible.

That hasn’t changed, now that he knows who she is.

She’s still one of the best things that’s ever happened to him.

Plagg must be fed up with how quiet Adrien’s been, because he pops to his feet to poke Adrien in the nose.  “You can do this, you know.  You were the one who convinced your father to let you go to public school—and need I remind you that you did that _before_ you had the ring.”

“I did, didn’t I?”  He hadn’t fought for something so hard in his life.  It had taken him nearly a year, to prove that he could manage all his schoolwork and his extra-curriculars and his photoshoots, that public school wouldn’t interfere with his responsibilities.  That he could still play the part of a perfect son, that school would give him an even _bigger_ stage where he could perform.

That his mother would never have wanted him trapped behind the glass like an artifact at a museum, or worse, left to rot in the shadows like one of Bluebeard’s wives.

It was a low blow but it was the truth, and it had done the trick.

Adrien can convince Marinette to hear him out without resorting to such underhanded tactics, if he’s lucky.

But Lady Luck has always been on his side, hasn’t she?

“Okay.”

Plagg grins.  “Okay?”

“Okay.  Let’s call up Ladybug.”

 

●        ●  
●  
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It takes Adrien ten minutes of pacing and encouragement from Plagg to psych himself up enough to pick up the phone and dial, and another five to actually press the call button.  By the time the dial tone begins to ring, the sun has set and Adrien has flopped back onto his bed, clutching at his phone with a white-knuckled grip as he stares wide-eyed at the ceiling.

“This is the Tom and Sabine Boulangerie-Patisserie, how can I help you?”  It’s Mme. Cheng, sounding cheerful and warm and sweet, and it’s no wonder, really, that Marinette turned out the way she did when she has parents like _this_.

His heart aches, a little, that his house has felt so hollow for so long, when it could have been so different.

“H-hi yes hello, Mme. Cheng.”  This was a bad idea.  Marinette’s mom is so _nice_ , and he’s about to tear her daughter to pieces.  She’s never going to invite him over _again_ , let alone sneak him boxes of madeleines or choux à la crème when he’s on his way home.

“Oh, bonsoir, Adrien!  How are you doing tonight?”

_Such a bad idea_.

“Oh, heh, I’m alright, thanks, I was just wondering if—”

“Marinette’s in the back, let me call her—”

“ _NO!_ ”  He says it too quick, too loud, and hurries on, “No, that’s okay, I was just calling because—I’d, er, I’d like some macarons.”

Plagg’s hands meet his forehead with an audible _smack_.

On the other end of the line, Marinette’s mom chuckles, not unkindly.  “Alright, and did you have a flavor in mind?”

“Oh, uhh…” _Merde merde merde_.  What sorts of flavors do macarons even _come_ in?  Adrien chances a glance over at Plagg, sitting on a pillow, but his kwami is just staring at him, unimpressed.  If he had eyebrows, Plagg would be raising one of them right now.  “I’ve never, um, never had a macaron?”

“You’ve never had a macaron before?”

“ _No_ , la vache, your macarons have never—I mean I’ve never had your macarons, but not on purpose or anything!  It’s just that—I mean you know my dad keeps me on a diet and I have to eat kale all the time and I _hate_ kale, and everybody thinks I love cheese but I _don’t_ , I just smell like it, and I just wanted to smell _not_ like cheese, because your daughter always smells so nice— _wait_ , _no_ , I didn’t mean it like—I wanted to smell a macaron, and I’ve heard you have the best macarons.  For smelling.”

Adrien claps a hand over his face.

_Oh la vache, what is wrong with me?_

Plagg is _cackling_ , laughing so hard he rolls right off the bed, and Adrien could really use the ground to swallow him up, right now.  How is he still _on the phone_?

“Oh, well,” says Mme. Cheng, a little bewildered.  Then her voice is all smiles, and she offers, “Would you like to hear our flavors, then?  So you can decide which one smells the best?”

He barely has a chance to blurt out a stuttered _okay_ before Adrien can hear a muffled, “Ma choupinette!  Time for the macarons!”

There’s a distant groan of “ _Maman_!” and then a shuffling as, evidently, the phone switches hands, and then it’s _Marinette’s_ voice that comes over the phone, bright and friendly.  “We have twenty-two different macaron flavors, would you like to hear them all?”

“Um.”

She gives a little, exasperated sigh, like Ladybug does when he’s made one terrible pun too many but she doesn’t have it in her to call him out on it.  “Okay,” she says, firm, and then she _sings_.

“Chocolate and vanilla, lemon, apple pie, pistachio, red velvet, spiced chai, peppermint, pumpkin, caramel, coconut, strawberry, peanut butter, mocha, cinnamon, praline, brownie, green tea and banana, orange, marzipan and crème brulee!”

Adrien never went to maternelle, but he remembers vividly cuddling in his mother’s lap as they sat at the kitchen table, the warmth of the oven at their backs.  He remembers clapping his hands on the table as she sliced out a thick piece of corona dels Reis and hummed about how much she loved cake.

And Marinette turned it into a song about _macarons_.

_Absolutely wonderful_.

“Um,” he says again, like a genius.  Plagg is still snickering in the background, and Adrien’s probably flushed as red as Ladybug’s suit—as _Marinette’s_ suit, _putain_.

“Look, you only get the song once,” she snaps, and Adrien is so startled by the venom in her voice that he fumbles with the phone.  “But I will list them out for you, again, if you’d like,” she adds, kinder, with a huff.

“A-actually, I’ll just—I’ll take one of each,” he blurts out, wincing at the gasp on the other end of the line.  But he doesn’t give her a chance to continue, doesn’t let her get out more than a whispered, frantic, “ _Adrien_?”  He plows right over her, “But that’s not an even two dozen, right?  So I’ll just take two more.  Of your favorite.  I mean—of your best seller.”

She’s quiet, for a long moment.  He’d be afraid she hung up on him, if not for her steady, soft breathing.  Adrien’s shocked _he_ is breathing right now, that his heart hasn’t given out from how fast it’s beating.

Then, with the utmost professionalism, she rattles off the price.  “Would you like to come pick them up, or have them delivered?”

“Oh, uh, delivered, please.”  He’s really not in any sort of position to leave the house.  Probably forever.

“Great!  It’ll be about half an hour?”

“ _Great_ ,” he echoes, weakly, and then he’s clutching at the phone. “Wait, Marinette, I—”

“Thank you so much!  We hope to see you again!”

And she hangs up.

It’s probably for the best.  What was he about to say, anyway?

_Marinette, I know you’re Ladybug?_

_Marinette, I’m Chat Noir?_

_Marinette, I know you don’t feel the same way but do you think maybe you’d like to go see a movie with me sometime?_

He stares up the blank phone screen, and tries very hard not to think about wide blue eyes and soft pink lips.  “Plagg,” he whispers, “I don’t—what am I—”

“First of all, you need to go get your macarons.”  Plagg swoops up to push Adrien’s phone out of the way, neither of them really caring when it bounces across the bed.  “Second,” he continues sternly, “you need to go get me some cheese—the good stuff from the kitchen—because that was absolutely _painful_ to listen to.  And _finally_ ,” he zips forward to sit pointedly on Adrien’s forehead, “you need to actually _talk_ to her.”  He gives a firm pat to Adrien’s hairline for emphasis.  “You’ve got your common ground, now you need to _use it_.”

“But how am I supposed to do _that_?”

 

●        ●  
●  
●        ●

 

He slides down the stair rail because there’s no one around to tell him off, and dashes across the foyer and into Nathalie’s office.  Falling into one of the empty chairs, Adrien proceeds to pull out his phone and pretend to text.  He can _feel_ Nathalie’s eyes on him, heavy and shrewd.

“Is there anything I can help you with, Adrien?” she asks drily.  Just because they’ve developed a system of favors doesn’t mean she appreciates when he invades her office unannounced.

“Nope!”  He flashes her a grin, and then he _does_ open up the _Ladybug et Chat Noir_ game on his phone, just for something to do.  He keeps getting stuck on the Mime level, much to Plagg’s frustration as well as his own.  He beat the real thing, so it’s ridiculous that he can’t get the handle of defeating the pixelated version.

He lets himself get absorbed in the game, so he doesn’t think about how hard his leg is bouncing.  But he’s not too engrossed that he misses the little _beep_ when the front gate intercom finally goes off.

Adrien lunges across the desk before Nathalie has a chance to reply, slamming a hand down to buzz the gate open.

His father’s assistant raises a single, sharp eyebrow, and Adrien gives her a sheepish grin in response.

“Thanks gotta go bye!”

He’s already swinging the door closed behind him by the time she starts to question just _what_ he thinks he’s doing.  Then he’s standing behind the front door, bouncing on the balls of his feet as Plagg gives him a supportive pat on his collar, ready to swing the door open the second the bell rings.

In retrospect, he really should have seen this coming.

Because Marinette is standing on his front step, looking—

_Kissable_ is the first thing that pops into his head and _oh la vache_ , he almost swings the door shut because that is _not_ the sort of thing he needs to be thinking about right now.

But she _does_ , in the same bouncy sundress she’d been wearing earlier, the flower print that matches the pink flush on her cheeks, and she’d taken her hair out of her usual pigtails to let it float loose around her shoulders, strands falling into her face despite her efforts to tuck them behind her ears.  And she’s smiling up at him, small and hopeful and a little mischievous, a blue box tucked against her hip.

“Hey,” he says, with a pathetic little wave.

“Hey,” she replies, soft, with a gentle wave of her own.  Then she straightens, presenting the box on an open palm and popping open the lid for him to get a whiff of the treats inside.  “Your macarons, Monsieur.”

They _do_ smell amazing.

“You asked for my favorite, but I can never decide,” she says, eyes bright, “so I gave you an extra each of the red velvet and the chai.”  She made sure to point them out before closing the box and handing it over.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

He watches her, the way she sways just a little, the contented twist of her lips, the sweep of her eyes as they glance around what she can see of his foyer.  Her eyes glint cerulean in the light from the chandelier, and the shadows catch on her hair and drag out the blue undertones.  She’s just so— _miraculous_.

How could he have been so blind?  How could he have missed it?

She’s been sitting right behind him the entire time.

“Adrien?”

“Yeah?”

She bites her lip, looking at him beseechingly.  “You know the rules.  If you place an order you’ve got to pay for it.”

_Oh_.  “Right.”  He digs into his pocket for his wallet and hands her the money.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.”  He just kind of stares at the box in his hands.

He wonders if she sang the song again, while she was filling up the box.

“I did, actually,” she says with a giggle, and oh _merde_ , he said that out loud.  “I’m sorry for snapping,” she adds, “earlier.  Some kids at school used to make fun of me for the macaron song, and that kind of sucked the fun out of it.  I wasn’t sure if you were trying to tease me or not.”

“Marinette, I would never—”

“I know.”  The way she says it, the weight she puts behind it, makes her sound like she’s talking about something else.

After a beat, Marinette seems to realize it, too.  She goes white as a sheet, her hands coming up to clasp beneath her chin, and stumbles back a couple steps.  “I, uh, I just—thank you, again!  You didn’t have to—Maman and Papa are worried that we won’t see you over the summer, or that you think you can’t come visit, but I told them that’s— _ridiculous_.  You are _always_ welcome, Adrien, okay?”  Her eyes are open and earnest, and Adrien can’t stop the flush that creeps up his cheeks at the intensity of her gaze.

“I—I know,” he says, and maybe he lets his words mean a little more than they should, too.  He tugs the pastry box against his stomach.  “Thanks, Mari.”

“Anytime.”

“Well I should probably—”

“My parents are gonna—”

They fall silent together, and Adrien isn’t the only one blushing this time.  He leans against the doorjamb, and it’s not hard to smile at her, to let that warm feeling in his chest bloom like the flowers on her dress.  Marinette take a couple more steps backwards, but they’re slow, reluctant.  Her eyes don’t really leave his.

Then she shakes her head, and the spell is broken.  She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, biting at the corner of her lip.  “Goodnight, Adrien.”

“See ya.”

With one last smile, she’s twirling around and skipping down the steps.

Adrien sighs, runs his hands down his face.  He knows _exactly_ what Plagg is going to say when they get back upstairs.

_You’re hopeless, kid._

Right now, he’s rather inclined to agree.

She just makes it so _hard_ to think of what to say.  All he wants to do is make her smile.

“Adrien?”

He blinks up, and Marinette has stopped in the middle of the courtyard, clutching at her elbow and scrunching up her shoulders.  She looks so _small_ , and he wants nothing more than to sweep her up onto the rooftops where she can stand tall, where she fills up the sky.

“Well, I’m not going to be doing much this summer, just working at the boulangerie.”  She reaches up with her free hand to brush her bangs out of her face and the motion drags her eyes to the ground.  She’s speaking fast, flustered, in a way she hasn’t since before her uncle came to visit.  “I’m sure you’re probably really busy, but—but if you’re ever free, and you were looking for something to do, then, um, I’d love to.  Do something—with you.”  And when she looks up, the question welling in her eyes, it rips the breath right from his lungs.

Then, before he has a chance to reply, she shakes her head and bids him another gentle, “Goodnight.”  She spins on her heel, hurrying out the gate.

It isn’t until he’s upstairs in his room that he notices the scribbled note on the inside of the lid.

_Give me a call sometime! ~M_

And underneath, ten glorious digits in her neat, looping script.

_Merde_ , this is going to be a long summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is my ONE chapter of gratuitous italics. I blame Adrien for being such a sap, eve though he’s so fun to write. This boy is in so deep that he’d use “miraculous” as a genuine complement and wouldn’t even realize how punny it was. And @everyone who thinks Ladybug isn’t punny, I encourage you to look again, because the girl’s got some zingers.)
> 
> Things:
> 
> I wanted to do a reveal that didn’t involve accidentally catching a transformation/detransformation, and the Marinette = Ladybug reveal didn’t go how I’d originally planned it, but I’m happy with how it turned out anyway. There are enough parallels for readers to spot, but not so much that our silly, oblivious Adrien realizes why the pieces came together the way they did.
> 
> And I really need more Plagg & Adrien bonding. This whole chapter got away from me, but I’m really glad I was able to do their moment in the middle.
> 
> Technically not _in_ French, but this is the [original song](http://www.mamalisa.com/?t=es&p=782) that Marinette turned into the macaron song. I _did_ make sure I could sing them all in meter, in English (pronouncing caramel as _car-mel_ , suck it), so it probably doesn’t also work in French. But oh well! *shrugs* In the name of fic and fluff, amirite?
> 
> Also don’t think I’ve left Alya hanging in Rome. I’ve actually got _character development_ planned for our favorite Ladyblogger, if you can believe it. I still have yet to work out how her chapters are gonna go, but rest assured that they’re coming. ;)


	3. The Chat Log (I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA Alya really, really hates missing out on all the action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW!!! OKAY, thank you all so so so much for your comments and kudos and feedback! A special thanks to everyone who commented on the French last chapter. I ended up going back and changing most of it to the English it was before, because it got dense at the end and broke the flow of the dialogue, which wasn’t something I wanted to do. So thank you for bearing with me ;) (I actually did go back and change a couple more things, but it was only a few phrases here and there, literally none of the actual narration itself. And with that, I am officially DONE with retroactive editing.)
> 
> I’m trying something a little different here. This chapter is gonna be relatively short word-count-wise, but I’m hoping to do a few of these as we go. They’re quick and easy to bang out, so hopefully I can fill in the gaps while I work on longer chapters.
> 
> ~~**PSA:** I played a little with CSS to get everything to look the way I wanted it to (nothing too crazy, just paragraph padding/alignment), but I really have no idea how this is going to look on mobile, if that’s how you like to read your fanfiction. Let me know if it’s impossible to decipher, and I can adjust some things.~~ And once again I am too ambitious. Now it should be legible for everybody.
> 
> And just a gentle reminder that the French convention is to list dates as Day/Month/Year.

**DJ NINO**

[Scroll up to read earlier messages]

_6/7/16, 5:32 PM_

You know Paris is so much quieter without  
you or Chloe

hahaha, you’re hilarious

Kidding ;P  
But also not really

 

I’m gonna miss you, Al.

i’m gonna miss you, too, Nino

 

* * *

 

**Mari <3<3<3**

[Scroll up to read earlier messages]

_6/7/16, 8:13 PM_

so we told Adrien about Le Chat Miserable  
today  
i was Le Chat ;P

UGH traitor

seriously when will Nino let that go  
doesn’t he remember getting punched in the  
face??  
but I know what you’re doing -_- you’re  
trying to distract me from the akuma attack  
today  
how did my substitute ladybloggers hold up  
for their first attack?

wait you’re still running the blog??  
???

i can’t abandon paris for the summer just  
because i’m in rome!  
i left two girls in charge of updates and  
monitoring the forums  
they’re twin sisters, Olivie and Lisette  
they’re super nice and i know they’ll do a  
good job

 

huh

what?? what’s wrong?  
they have updated right??

nothing’s wrong, i was just surprised, is all

i didn’t think you’d leave the blog to anyone  
else, but if you trust them then i trust you <3  
and i haven’t checked but i’ll keep you posted

TYSM!!

_9:48 PM_

so

i’ve checked the ladyblog

and???

they’re, um  
very perky?  
i’m just used to you running the show

not that they’re not good!  
but you’re my favorite ladyblogger <3  
and the comments seem to be pretty positive  
but there is this one

[IMG_0869.JPG]  
[IMG_0870.JPG]  
[IMG_0871.JPG]

 

WOWWWW

well

i don’t know if i should be flattered or not  
that modelbehavior09 is so angry on my  
behalf  
but “you’re crazy if you think you will ever be  
able to work with LB and CN like Alya does” is  
kinda harsh  
the SECOND i can sit down at a computer i’ll  
whip up a post to soothe the waters  
and i can count on you to keep an eye on the  
blog while I take care of my sisters?

of course ma belle!  
did you even need to ask :P

thanks chouchou!  
Ahh my mom is calling for lights out :/  
we’ll skype tomorrow?

I wouldn’t miss it :*  
goodnight!

Sweet dreams <3

<3<3

 

* * *

 

**DJ NINO**

[Scroll up to read earlier messages]

_7/7/16, 3:14 PM_

So…

Has Marinette talked to you yet today?

 

No  
we’ll skype later tonight though  
why?

No reason  
Just, uh

Marinette and Adrien were being weird at the  
arcade today

weird how????

 

Nino?

NINO WEIRD HOW???????  
NINO WHERE DID YOU GO  
MON DIEU NINO!!!!!!!

_4:06 PM_

Sorry! I had to help my maman with the  
dishes  
Uh, it was definitely weird

Like they were always looking at each other,  
but looked away the minute the other person  
looked. Adrien had his fake model smile on  
the whole time. Marinette kept doing that  
thing where she fixes her pigtails when she’s  
nervous.  
But also Adrien failed the same song on DDR  
three times in a row, and Marinette didn’t  
even bother taunting Hector. He beat her in  
Mario Kart and all she said was “good game”

but that boy is her arcade arch NEMESIS what  
do you mean she said good game!!

???  
Your guess is as good as mine

well merde

 

!!!

Nino do you think they had a conversation  
about feelings  
NINO!!!!  
DO YOU THINK THEY FINALLY WORKED UP  
THE NERVE  
UGH  
WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAPPEN WHEN I  
LEAVE

I wouldn’t go that far  
They could’ve been acting weird for completely different reasons

come on, it’s Mari and Adrien we’re talking  
about

Yeah, you’re probably right  
But that doesn’t mean they had a talk about  
feelings

wait a minute don’t you know??? Haven’t you  
talked to Adrien yet?

 

Uh, no. I texted you first

oh. thanks

but Nino you are also my informant! I need  
you to keep me informed!!!  
and that means gathering as much  
information as you can ;)

Sure make ME do your dirty work  
;P  
I’ll talk to our boy and see what I can figure out

thank you so much!!!  
i’ll handle Mari, that girl can’t keep a secret  
from me for long ;)

 

* * *

 

**Mari <3<3<3**

[Scroll up to read earlier messages]

_7/7/16, 4:35 PM_

hey girl, what’s this I heard about you letting  
Hector beat you at Mario Kart??

 

* * *

 

**DJ NINO**

[Scroll up to read earlier messages]

_7/7/16, 5:29 PM_

SO, I talked to Adrien

ANDDDD????

Well, I can’t tell you everything, but  
He definitely wants to have a Talk with  
Marinette.

!!!!!  
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

wait wait wait, what kind of Talk are we talking about here?  
is this a good Talk or a bad Talk?

He has some things he needs to tell her  
He used the word “confess”  
Multiple times  
O_O

AHHHHH!!!  
NINO DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS  
this means if they are not an official couple  
by the end of this summer, I’M GONNA  
well i don’t know what i’m gonna do  
BUT IT’S GONNA BE SOMETHING

but Nino  
NINO!!!

this means it’s your job to make sure they  
don’t screw this up

Al  
I know you like to meddle, but girl, you’ve  
got to let them move at their own pace.  
If you rush them, it’s gonna get really ugly  
really fast

i’m not saying you have to meddle, per se  
i’m just saying you have to make sure they  
don’t sabotage themselves  
you know how good they are at doing that

Maybe you have a point.

i always do! ;)

and okay, for the record, it’s not meddling  
it’s *gentle encouragement*

I’ll keep that in mind the next time Marinette  
barges into the boy’s bathroom :P

THAT WAS ONE TIME  
and we’re both scarred about that, thank you  
very much

You weren’t even there!

neither were you :P

Touche

;)

Okay, okay

On my honor as an eclaireur, I promise to do  
my best to save Adrien and Marinette from  
themselves.

thank youuuuu <3  
i don’t know what i’d do without you, Nino

Probably go through withdrawal without the  
inside scoop.

XP

…  
you’re probably right

 

* * *

 

**Mari <3<3<3**

[Scroll up to read earlier messages]

_7/7/16, 7:48 PM_

SO SORRY!! I was helping with the afternoon  
rush today and then we had dinner, so I just  
saw this  
And I just wasn’t feeling up for it, I guess

though the look on his face when he realized  
I wasn’t even trying was pretty funny  
I did let him beat me a couple times just to  
mess with him ;P

Mari…

I wanted to lull him into a false sense of  
security!  
next time he won’t know what hit him

Mari  
is everything okay with you and Adrien?

Yeah we’re fine?  
What do you mean?

i talked to Nino, chouchou

 

*sigh*  
fine

I just  
there’s something I need to tell him, and I’m  
not sure how to do that yet  
I’m not sure how he’s gonna take it, and I  
really don’t want to screw it up  
I don’t want to lose him, you know?  
but I also don’t want him to lose ME

And maybe that’s a little conceited, but he  
doesn’t have a lot of people to begin with,  
Alya  
I don’t want to alienate him over something  
silly

what’s so silly that it’s got you freaking out  
over how to talk to Adrien about it?

Ahhhhhh  
it’s a long story

girl, i’ve got nothing but time

but you should be enjoying your time in the  
eternal city!  
seriously what are you doing talking to me  
when you could be tracking down mysterious  
fox girls

there’s some weird curfew :/  
no one is supposed to be out after dark but  
it’s making maman nervous anyway so she  
doesn’t want us outside the hotel this late  
until we’re more settled

:P  
but don’t think i don’t see what you’re doing!  
i know all your tricks, Mari  
what can’t you talk about?

It’s nothing that exciting, really

and seriously, I would tell you about it but it’s  
kinda personal

 

what’s so personal that you can’t tell me

I don’t mean it like that, Al :(

no no! if you don’t wanna talk about it you  
don’t have to talk about it  
i’ll stop bothering you

hey, you know I wouldn’t hide anything from  
you unless I had good reason, right?  
this is as much about Adrien as it is about me  
he doesn’t even know what I know, so I can’t  
go around telling people about it

but I don’t want to keep secrets from you  
forever :(((

 

Awww, Alya

we just have a few things to work out, okay?  
it doesn’t mean I trust you any less

 

Alya?

i’m gonna call, you better have pants on :P

* * *

Missed call from **Mari <3<3<3  
__**8:34 PM

* * *

okay  
okay

I’m sorry, ma belle  
maybe I’m a little afraid of what you’re gonna  
say when you find out, too

I know you’ll keep my secrets when it counts,  
but this isn’t just about me  
and I just want to keep you safe  
I couldn’t stand to see you get hurt because I  
can’t protect you  
and maybe  
maybe that’s why I’m so scared to talk to  
Adrien

*sigh*  
I hope you’re having a good time in Rome  
don’t let your sisters drive you too crazy ;P  
I love you, Alya

 

* * *

You were in a call with **Mari <3<3<3  
__**10:42 PM

* * *

and you probably don’t need me to remind  
you  
but you’re pretty amazing  
there’s nothing you can’t do when you put  
your mind to it, girl  
keep me posted?

with pictures <3

just the way I like it ;)  
goodnight!!! :* :*

Sweet dreams :*

 

* * *

 

**Olivie**

[Scroll up to read earlier messages]

_8/7/16, 12:09 AM_

Hey Alya! So sorry that this is so late, but Liz  
is a night owl and won’t let me go to bed  
until we have your approval to post these  
pictures  
[IMG_1239.JPG]  
[IMG_1314.JPG]

OH MY GOD ARE YOU SERIOUS!?!?!  
i swear EVERYTHING goes down without me  
this is ridiculous  
but FIRST of all, thank you for sending these  
to me  
like so much  
so SO much  
and second of all, i’m glad you checked with  
me because you can’t post those pictures

What? why not?  
the blog traffic always spikes when you post  
LadyNoir? Especially pictures  
I don’t see what the problem is

i know, but Ladybug asked me to keep it  
professional  
it was one of the conditions when she agreed  
to give me exclusive interviews  
and BELIEVE me  
as much as i want to share those pictures  
with THE WORLD  
(SHE KISSED HIM!!!!!!!! on the cheek but still.  
AND HE’S GOT HER IN A PRINCESS HOLD I’M  
S C R E A M I N G)  
Ladybug and Chat Noir wouldn’t be happy  
about it  
i’m not about to betray their trust like that  
we’ve got to respect their privacy, you know?

Got it! thanks for the heads up  
Liz’ll be disappointed but she’ll understand  
for future reference, you want me to keep  
sending these to you? I know we won’t be  
able to put them up, but someone besides us  
should get to see them ;)

YES!!! PLEASEEE!!!!  
Thank you so much, Olivie, you and Lisette  
are the best

Any time, Alya :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m 90% sure that the convention for Google Chats is to use the end time of the video call for the timestamp (my sister and I use this function a lot while I’m at school), so that’s how I used it here.
> 
> Heart to hearts are hard when you have to do it through a computer screen, but Alya and Marinette make it work. Alya also manages to micromanage her best friend’s love life from another country, because she’s just that awesome ;) And I really like the idea of Chill Dude Nino being a Super Proper Texter, and the kind of person who likes to remind everyone he was a boy scout ("eclaireur") when he was probably only a boy scout for like a year. Also Alya turned of autocorrect because nobody got for time for that.
> 
> Bonus points to whoever can guess who modelbehavior09 is ;P
> 
> Next time: Ladybug and Chat Noir get their first taste of the dynamic duo that is Olivie and Lisette Vaite.
> 
> And the next chapter might be a little ways off. I’ve got two exams next week, and the next chapter is Marinette’s POV and the writing has been slow going. (But in the meantime you should come over and say hi and ask questions on tumblr ([@mademoisellecoccinelle](http://mademoisellecoccinelle.tumblr.com)) because I don’t want to reveal too much in the notes, but I’ll probably be more generous in answering asks. Just saying. ;) )


End file.
